


Socks and Malteasers

by azriona



Series: Advent Calendar Drabbles 2013 [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Kid Sherlock, Kidlock, Pre-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azriona/pseuds/azriona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock waits for Hermione under the willow tree, her Christmas gift in his pocket.  It’s a bit of a double-edged sword.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Socks and Malteasers

**Author's Note:**

> The eleventh installment of this year’s Advent Calendar Drabbles. Because I am lazy, I’m titling the drabbles with the prompt. Today’s prompt is from , who also specified the characters within. I was doing _so well_ with bright and cheery drabbles, and then the angst came out of nowhere here! I’m so sorry – I’ll try to get back into the cheerful stories tomorrow!

They met under the willow tree past the hill. It was their usual spot, but Sherlock got there first and worried about the snow, ten centimeters deep, and wondered if she’d be able to get through, because Hermione was never late, ever. 

She came, five minutes later, her cheeks pink with exertion, and covered in a fine dusting of snow. There was a particularly thick bit of snow clinging to her ridiculous yarn hat, as if someone had thrown a snowball at her head. Sherlock jumped to his feet and reached for the wand that wasn’t in his back pocket yet, because he was still eight years old and couldn’t do magic. 

_Yet._

“Who did it?” he demanded when Hermione was at last under the tree, and Hermione fumbled with her coat, trying to unzip despite her chilled fingers. 

“You can’t tell?” 

“I wasn’t going to show off,” he said, and Hermione snorted. Sherlock scowled. “Jim and Sebastian, of course.” 

“Obvious,” said Hermione in what was clearly a mocking sort of tone, and she smiled at Sherlock. “I brought your Christmas present. It’s not very big.” 

Sherlock felt the package in his pocket. “That’s all right. Neither is mine.” 

“Who should go first, then?” asked Hermione, settled down on her knees. The ground under the tree was clear of snow, but it couldn’t have been comfortable. Sherlock sat cross-legged across from her. 

“I don’t care, whatever you like.” 

“Together,” said Hermione, and reached into her coat with a mischievous smile. Sherlock felt the soft paper-wrapped package in his pocket and took a breath. 

_She’ll hate it_ , he told himself, and then took courage, because Hermione was terribly polite and would never admit it if she did. 

_Well-mannered child_ , Sherlock’s mother had said, meeting her in the street one day. _For a Muggle. I suppose._

Sherlock pulled the package from his pocket, and Hermione pulled out a paper bag at the same time. “Oh, you wrapped yours,” she said, a bit dismayed. “I couldn’t find where Mum hid the paper. I put stickers on the bag, see?” 

“This is better, I can carry it home this way.” 

They exchanged their gifts. Sherlock held onto the paper bag without opening it, because he wanted to see Hermione open his present, and provide proper explanation if she needed it, which she undoubtedly would. Being a Muggle. _Which was fine, of course it was fine_ , Sherlock told himself. Not everyone could be special. 

Besides, Muggles were important too. They played a terribly important role in society, even if _most_ wizards didn’t want to admit it. That’s what Father said, every day, and always where Sherlock could hear. 

“Oh!” said Hermione, and her eyes lit up as she opened her gift. 

“They’re socks,” said Sherlock helpfully. 

“I can see that!” She held them up and admired them. “They’re…awfully soft.” 

“I know it’s stupid,” said Sherlock, a bit miserable. “But I haven’t had any pocket money since I blew up the greenhouses two months ago, and…” 

“I love them,” said Hermione firmly, and she reached over and gave Sherlock a tight hug around his neck. 

Sherlock went red. “Mycroft is always saying his headmaster thinks socks are the most marvelous gift.” 

“Mycroft’s headmaster is very clever,” said Hermione. “Now open yours. It’s not half so nice.” 

Sherlock had already determined what was in the bag, and he was inclined to disagree, but he opened it for Hermione’s benefit anyway, and managed to look surprised. “Malteasers!” 

“You guessed,” laughed Hermione. 

“Did not,” said Sherlock. “How did you manage to buy these without your parents knowing?” 

“I told them I was buying something for them,” said Hermione, quite smug. “And I know you love them, and I think it’s silly that your parents never take you to shops that carry them. What kind of sweet shop doesn’t have Malteasers?” 

Sherlock’s head swam a little bit, with the thought that Hermione had lied to her parents – _her parents!_ – in order to purchase him anything at all. Even a few precious packages of Malteasers. “I’ll stretch them out to Easter,” he said, and thought about Mycroft talking of Honeyduke’s in Hogsmeade. Surely he could put in a special order, once he was old enough to go to Hogwarts? 

Or perhaps Hermione would send him packages while he was there. Yes, that might work. 

He opened his mouth, as if to ask, but Hermione was studying the socks intently. “They’re really lovely,” she said. “Look, the stitching on the hems, with the birds and flowers? It’s so clever, it looks like they’re moving and winking hello!” 

Sherlock frowned and peered at the socks in Hermione’s hands. They were meant to be self-cleaning, that was the magic, nothing else. The stitching along the hems was utterly still. 

And there weren’t any birds or flowers that Sherlock could see. 

_All sorts of good things Muggles can do in the world_ , Father had said that morning over breakfast, and Sherlock didn’t guess what that meant, what Hermione’s socks meant, what the two together meant. He never guessed. 

“You can’t possibly tell me Malteasers are a better gift than these socks,” said Hermione, and Sherlock let out a long breath. 

“They’re the best,” he said, “but wait until you try a chocolate frog.”


End file.
